


In The Cold Light I Live

by Punish_Me_Frank_Castle



Series: Unrequited Love Series [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punish_Me_Frank_Castle/pseuds/Punish_Me_Frank_Castle
Summary: In the cold light, I live to love and adore you, it's all that I am, it's all that I have. In the cold light, I live, I only live for you, it's all that I am, it's all that I have.





	In The Cold Light I Live

course you would end up in this bar. Out of all the dive bars in New York you ended up in the pub across from Steve’s apartment. From where you were sitting you could see his living room window. The light was on. You slammed back another shot of tequila grimacing as it burned your throat. That was your seventh—or was it eighth—shot and you were way past drunk. Everything was spinning, everything except the light from Steve’s window. It was the light at the end of a dark tunnel. It was calling to you.

You shook your head and then groaned as you resisted the urge to puke. Fuck Steve. All he did was hurt you. Use you and then leave you.

But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know that he was hurting you. Steve was amazing. He was pure, he’d never do anything wrong on purpose.

You slammed your fist on the table, trying to stop the thoughts running through your head. You murmured an apology when the bartender gave you a nasty look. Why couldn’t you just be mad at Steve? You wanted to be mad at him so badly, to hate him. You would get rilled up, give yourself a pep talk to finally tell him off. And then he would show up, flashing that amazing smile and those baby blue eyes and you were back to being head over heels. It was a vicious cycle that you couldn’t break.

Getting up, you walked out of the bar, hoping the cold air would sober you up some.  It didn’t. And before you knew it you were knocking on Steve’s door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? It’s midnight.”

“I wanted to see you.” you said, hating how you slurred your words.

“You’re drunk.” Steve said harshly.

“So?” you said as you stepped forward. Steve blocked your entrance. You frowned up at him.

“Sharon is here, and you’re drunk.” he said tersely.

You were frowning again. Steve must have noticed because his tone changed.

“Y/N you need to go home and get some rest.”

You were pissed now. How fucking dare he. Wasn’t it just last week that he had shown up on your front porch at three in the morning drunk out of his mind on alien liquor? How could he stand there all high and mighty and judgmental when you were just doing the same thing he had done last week.

“You know what Rogers?” you snarled “I’m done. Fuck you. You’re such a shitty person, a shitty friend and you don’t even notice. You’re selfish and inconsiderate and I can’t believe I ever fucking loved you.”

“You love me?” Steve asked surprised.

“No. I was fucking delusional. And you’ve cured me of that delusion tonight.”

You were yelling now, probably waking up his neighbors but you didn’t care.

“Don’t text me when you’re bored, don’t call me asking for advice, and don’t fucking show up at my house just because you ‘want to see me’. I’m done.”

You finally stopped seeing red and looked up to see Steve’s reaction. He stood there shocked. Sometime during your rant Sharon had came to the door. She was standing behind him glaring at you.

You just smiled at her and walked away. You took the stairs not wanting to wait on the elevator. You jogged down the stairs smiling so hard it hurt. As you walked home your phone was constantly vibrating. Steve had been calling you non-stop and that only made you happier. You were proud of yourself. You had broken free of the spell that was Steve Rogers.

When you got home you threw yourself into bed, the adrenalin rush from before had started to fade. As you went to shut your eyes your phone vibrated again this time differently than before. You picked up your phone and read the text displayed on the screen.

_**Natasha:** Steve says he’s sorry. _

You typed back a quick reply and then rolled over to go to sleep.

_**Y/N:** Tell him to shove his sorry’s up his ass._

You dreamt that night, but it certainly wasn’t of Steve Rogers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
